Draco, The Murderer
by YouCanCallMe MrsMalfoy
Summary: Why was Draco talking to Myrtle before the duel in the bathroom in Half Blood Prince? This is my take on the scene, written in Draco's POV for a class paper. Read and review!


I exhaled a breath that I did not realize I had been holding. I removed the small yellow bird from my pocket and stared into its small, innocent eyes. This bird was domesticated and sat gently in my palm, making no effort to leave or abandon me like all others had. Instead he chirped to me, singing me a song that would hopefully not be his last. If only he knew the future that lay ahead of him.

The giant cabinet stood in front of me. Although the room was crowded with random knickknacks, this was the only object that seemed of any value. I opened the large door and placed the bird on the ground inside. After one final glance, I closed the door and wished the best for the little creature. I drew my wand from my back pocket and silently tapped the door. Minutes seemed to last hours as I waited for the telltale sound that would accompany the bird's return. This experiment would symbolize the completion of a major part of my assignment. If this was a success then the Dark Lord would finally have full confidence in me. So much more was at stake than just the life of this animal and somehow, I valued this the most. My father's redemption, my mother's pride, the future of my family…It all rests in my hands now. Many are not allowed to pledge allegiance for years but this alone has merited me early entrance. I know that he expects my failure, but I plan to prove him wrong.

The sound that emitted from the cabinet was the only thing that could have pulled me from my thoughts. I took another deep breath as I prepared myself for the fate of my future. My fingertips trembled as I reached forward towards the silver handle. I grasped it tightly and waited for the strength to open the door. The silence in the room did nothing to calm my nerves as I realized there was no beautiful song like before this little experiment. I closed my eyes tight and pulled the door open. There, on the middle of the ground, lay the carcass of the little bird. Tears rose to my eyes immediately and I realized that none of my hard work had paid off. I had caused the death of this bird, this helpless animal. He spent his entire life trapped in a cage, with no family or friends to keep him company. Just like me, he was alone in life and had no one to turn to. I had removed him from his home and used him, like a tool. Why would I do this to him when I know the pain he must have experienced? I know what it is like to have no say in your own future. I know what it is like to be forced to do something that goes against everything you stand for. And most of all, I know what it is like to feel like a pawn being used with no idea of the bigger picture.

I had to get away, run away from the contraption that was causing me such grief. I know that when I return to this room I will be forced to see this frail little body yet again. I'm sure that this will lead to another break down but that is something I will have to deal with when the time comes. I needed to vent, to have someone to tell me that I will be alright. I need someone to reassure me that, although this isn't just another nightmare, all bad will pass with time.

I ran quickly to the deserted boy's bathroom. I hoped and prayed that I would find her there, despite it being away from her usually location. She often seemed to look for me when she knew I was performing my trials. My recounts were always lacking detail to avoid being caught if she chose to open her mouth to others. This girl, who I would have looked down upon if she were alive, had taken an interest in talking with me. She sympathized with my hurt, knowing the pain of feeling alone. She, too, often had no one to go to. Even in the afterlife, these lonely feelings still plagued her.

Before I knew it, I found myself in front of my usually sink, staring into the same mirror that I always did after each new experiment. Often times I would smile and wait for her to arrive to brag and celebrate. But not this time. There would be no reason to celebrate tonight. I looked at myself in the mirror, at the young man standing before me. The expressions on the face were so familiar but couldn't be pinpointed. What was I seeing? Was it hurt? Depression? Regret? No, it was something much worse…it was disappointment. I recognized that look, the same my father gave me every time I had seen him. No matter how much I tried I was never able to impress him or make him proud. The beatings and scoldings were easy to handle, but not the look of disappointment that would appear on his face when Granger would make better marks than me or when our team would lose at Quidditch.

I did the only thing that I possibly could while looking into the eyes that reminded me so much of my fathers. I balled up my fist and slammed it into the reflection of my face. All of my energy and anger flowed through my arm and was released as the glass shattered to the wet floor. The loud crunch that should have accompanied the action was silenced by the volume of my sobs. I stood there, crying, like a child who was told their first pet had died.

Without any forewarning, she appeared next to me. I had not even noticed her presence until she spoke, and when she did, she was doing so unknowingly. She seemed to speak before even noticing my presence, for if she had her words would have been different.

"So how did it go today? Any luck?"

These words came out so happily which contrasted greatly to the mood in the room before her entrance. This tone alone threw me into another hysterical crying fit. I lost complete control of my emotions and could not bear to look into my eyes any longer. My head dropped down as my body continue to heave with sobs.

"Don't," she crooned from one of the stalls next to my sink. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

"No one can help me," I cut in. I needed to stop her. How could she be so positive when my world was surely coming to an end? "I can't do it…I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…"

I needed to stop. I needed to get my mind off of the terrible future that lie ahead of me and focus on the positives. I needed to find a solution or a way out. What I didn't need was to continue crying. Real men didn't cry and I would just deserve another disappointing look if my father were to see me now. After one last gasp for air between sobs, I looked up at the mirror again. Only this time my father's look of shame was not the only face staring at me in the reflection.

At first I froze to the spot after seeing my enemy's face behind mine. I was rooted to the spot for only a second before I found an alternative means of expressing anger. This time there would be no shattered mirror shards to reparo back into place. This time I would make Potter pay for the harm that he caused both me and my family.

I spun around at full force and removed my wand yet again. Visions of our duel during second year flashed before my eyes as I watched him remove his wand in similar fashion. He narrowly escaped my first hex, but this was only because of my emotional state. It flew past his head and collided with the lamp on the wall. I took a deep breath to recompose myself as I blocked his wordless spell. As I raised my wand, Myrtle shouted out to us both.

"No! No! Stop it!" she squealed as our bickering continued. Unlike many others in the school, I had let her into my life and confided in her. I know that she cared deeply for our conversations and was worried that I would be hurt in the process of relieving my stress. "Stop! STOP!"

I turned to look at her again and watched as a spell flew right past my ear. The toilet bowl behind us exploded and water poured everywhere. Harry, with a look of evil in his eyes, slipped in the water and started to speak the words for yet another jinx. My body took full control again, like it had before and raised my wand toward his falling body. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as I felt my lips curl to form the dark magic.

"Cruci– "

Harry managed to scream one final incantation before my words could finish themselves, one word that I was unfamiliar with but will never forget. "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

I felt the warm blood seeping down my cold, pale face. Seconds later, I realized that the severe cuts extended to my body and these, too, were spurting the red ooze. The smell of rusting iron was heavy as I was slashed with the invisible sword that seemed to be present. Overcome by the smell and feeling of my life draining from my body, I became lightheaded and my vision blurred. I felt myself falling backwards but could make no effort to stop myself from the impending doom. Like a ton of bricks, I hit the waterlogged floor with a thud.


End file.
